


Progression

by suchloudscenery



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Half-Sibling Incest, M/M, Suicide, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:30:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchloudscenery/pseuds/suchloudscenery





	Progression

_It’s a pretty ordinary day, I suppose. Meenah’s on my case, but I ain’t really hearin’ her. Kankri’s in my lap, posting some long-ass rant on his blog about some social injustice issue that no one else really gives a rat’s ass about. Mituna is playing airplane with his girl, and the world feels right. We’re just a bunch of kids at the park, loitering our weekend away. Except we’re not. This isn’t a park, it’s a funeral, and it’s not one of their’s, but mine. Closed coffin, ‘cuz a blown off head’s not something to be stared at. And no one’s there, no one but Eri and Dad, and neither of them cares, and I’m watching them lower my coffin, and—_

And, I’m awake. My palms are sweaty and I feel wrong. Dreams of suicide aren't really an indication of anything good. Luckily, the boy I love is asleep beside me. I’m still blown away by how simply gorgeous he is, even in sleep, blond hair mussed and tangled. His eyes are squeezed shut right now, but, when they’re open, you can see that they’re almost violet they’re so blue.

He’s my brother, my little brother, a ten year-old who needs something good, something I could never give him. Six years and a bloodline between us and all I can think of is sullying the one decent relationship I have. It’s probably about one in the morning right now, but I don’t really wanna check, it would mean moving, which might wake him.

I watch him sleep. Small puffs of breath escape his parted lips, and all my weary mind can focus on is how much he deserves to be kissed. I won’t do it, but someone should. Someone should recognize what I do in him, scoop him up, and never let go. No one will.

He shivers lightly, brow creasing with worry. Even in his sleep, he remains grim and hopeless looking. It ain’t right. He’s just a kid. No, not a kid, because kids get to laugh, and they play. Most of all, they get to smile. My little champ hasn’t smiled in what seems like a very long time. He sighs, and once again my eyes are drawn to his lips. I wonder if they’re still soft, or if the chlorine and saltwater he’s always always playing in have chapped them yet. I know he uses those girly, flavored lip balms, so maybe not. I wish he’d quit with those already. Poor kid’s beat on enough without the fag jokes too.

The nightmare that woke me seems to have transfered to him now because he’s whimpering and whining up a storm, clinging to the sheets like they’re some sorta lifeline to sanity. He’s hyperventilating in his sleep, and it breaks my heart because, even if I can’t guess what his nightmare’s about, it ain’t pretty. I run my hand through his sandy hair. It calms him a little and his eyes flutter open, looking at me with shocking awareness for a half-asleep tyke. His night-light casts a hazy, purple glow through our room as he blinks up at me.

“Cro?” he mumbles, still scared as he reaches out to feel my face. Poor guy’s nearly blind without his specs.

I smile faintly. He’s got a stupid nickname for everyone, so it shouldn’t really make me feel special, but it does. “Yeah, bud. It’s just me.

He relaxes at that, curling up around his seahorse plush. “Can you play your guitar for me again?”

Nodding, I smile, wondering for what seems like the millionth time when the hero-worshiping is gonna stop and he’s gonna realize what everyone else already has: that Cronus Ampora is a skeevy, stupid, no good perv.

But, for now, Eridan likes me.

For now, we seem fine. 

* * *

 

I get home from school and he's sitting on the porch swing, looking as hopeless and pitiful as the day Dad brought him home.    

 

_"Cronus?"  my father's deep voice rings out across the yard and I emerge from the back, the pyre of my childhood still smoldering. All the magic memorabilia up in smoke, replaced with cooler passions now that she's gone._

_"What." I don't phrase it like a question because it isn't one. The only questions worth answering are dead now, like my mom. Mom, who believed in her 'C' average boy, who didn't mind how my braces made me speak wrong, who never doubted my faith in magic, who taught me the guitar, who loved me. Mom, who blew her brains out when she found out about her. When she found out about the (now dead) whore and her bastard son._

_"Come meet your younger brother."  Dad doesn't phrase it like a request because it isn't one. He's the boss here. He's always been the boss. The rain that the weather guy promised is swiftly coming, but I take my sweet time. This kid is the reason I'm half an orphan, he can wait._

_There are still puddles from yesterday's showers on the ground, but I avoid looking in them. All I see is a warped version of Dad's face. I finally arrive at the car and peer inside the back window._

_The first thing I see is that the kid's crying. I sigh and roll my eyes,glancing up at my father with a questioning look. "Get in" Dad orders, and I comply, sitting beside the nameless brat._

_He glances up at me shyly, big, Coke-bottle glasses wet with his tears. He sets down a book (Jesus, "Harry Potter" at his age? What's he, a whiz-kid?), and extends a tiny hand to shake mine. "Eridan Ampora"_

_Woah, my dad's whore musta been foreign for the kid to have that sorta voice. It's watery and his intonation is all wrong._

_I nod, giving the kid my hand. Not really his fault my dad's a prick. "Cronus Ampora. Harry Potter, huh?"_

_He bobs his five year-old head. "Magic's not real, but I like it anyway."  I don't know what's wrong Eridan's voice, actually. The 'w' is elongated and awkward sounding, not to far off from my own. I smile faintly at that._

_The smile seems to console him some, 'cause within a few moments he's talking a mile a minute about science and history and shit I don't even know yet, and I'm in the sixth grade. I learn Eridan's autistic, and that he likes to tell everyone before they become friends so as to 'not disappoint them too terribly.' I learn that the shittiness of losing your mom is universal, regardless of if she's your dad's mistress or his wife. I learn he likes the guitar. I tell him I play, and that's the closest I get to a smile from him. I learn that I really, really like Eridan._

I sit beside Eri, wanting to comfort him. But I've learned over the past six years that hugs are disconcerting to him, as are pretty much most of the things I would normally do to help someone. "What's wrong, champ?" I cautiously try, looking down and noticing that once again, he's crying. 

"Feferi doesn't wanna be friends anymore." 

My mind goes blank. Eridan doesn't have friends, not even fake ones like me. He has, or had, a best friend. He and Feferi were a pair, every moment they were joined at the hip. He caught plankton in the tidal pools for her fish, and she was the only person I'd seen him smile for, except me on a few occasions. To me, it had seemed that they'd be a dynamic duo 'til death. Guess not. 

"Why's that?" I venture. 

"I asked her to the dance. She told me she was goin' with Sollux. Things went downhill, fast." he mutters this, obviously hiding something. I check my watch and realize that despite it only being around two, Eridan and Dad were home. 

"Downhill how?" 

He chokes, burying his face in his hands. "I-I got in a fight with Sol an' I knocked him out. Fef was watchin' an she got mad an slapped me, so I punched her. I punched Fef, Cronus. Feferi..." Eridan throws his head back and screams, making me wince slightly. 

I'm at a loss. I had an inkling that maybe he liked her, but... I bite my lip, standing up and going inside to get him his seahorse plush. It was from his mom, so maybe it'll do something good. He takes it silently. 

Eridan is not fine. 

* * *

Happy birthday to me. Officially a man and officially dead to my father. Offically dumped by Kankri. Offically done with being an Ampora. 

I'm driving fast as this old thing'll go, crying and thanking whatever God there is that I'm not too drunk to drive. 

I make a mental note to never drink again. I know by the time I've reached wherever I'm going, I'll have tossed that note out for good. 

Thankfully I've been working for Horuss' dad or I wouldn't have anything to go on until I find a job. I need to drive faster, get away. 

I want to hate Kankri for dumping me, but if he'd been keeping me a secret for so many years, all the while loving someone else, I'd have dumped him too. 

My dad I do hate. He's turned Eridan against me, the only one since mom who ever loved me. I don't know or even care why Eridan said it, but I know it sure as hell wasn't true before he decided Dad was cooler than me. I guess the tides turned after his fight with Feferi. I went over to the Peixes' house to ask Meenah to talk to Feferi, and all hell broke lose. Every disagreement we'd ever had was suddenly out there for the world to see, all my secrets too. Well, not the one about Eridan, but all the ones she knew anyway. 

It sucked, and what's worse Eridan got pissed at me for it. I was only trying to help, but that's my specialty—fucking up. After that, though, he was lost to me. Suddenly, it was hunting with dad over feelings jams and guitar time with Cronus. Maybe it wasn't sudden. Maybe I'd been pushing him away with my overbearing affections the whole time. I dunno, and I guess it doesn't matter anymore. 

He looked me in the eye, straight on, which he never does. He tilted his small, proud chin up, and told me he hated me. No explanation beyond that, no nothing from either of them. I walked to my room, got a duffle bag full of clothes and junk, my guitar, a picture of Mom, and I left. 

They let me. 

I wonder if I'll crash. I wouldn't on purpose, but you know, it's a nice thought. 

I am not fine. 

* * *

Another day, another dollar. A new city this time, L.A. It's filled with new faces, new bars, and same old Cronus: the sterotypically alcoholic musician. I play in clubs and coffee shops and wherever they'll pay me. I get by. 

There's nothing to hold me anywhere, just how I like it. Occasionally, my mind drifts to Eri. He'd be just about nineteen now. I wonder how he turned out, if he ever patched things up with Feferi, if he misses me half as much as I miss him. They never even looked for me, so I guess not. 

Tonight, I celebrate, the only way I know how. 

The first shot stings a bit, and the first dancer sucks in all the wrong ways. 

The second isn't as bad, but nothing new, you know? 

The third, however, is captivating. He twists and weaves around the pole like it's his calling, grinding into it with a passion that most people wouldn't show their lovers. He's tall, though not as much as me, and he's lean, like a swimmer. The schoolgirl drag was sorta a weird choice, but he's working it. He's got a shock of purple in his sandy blond hair. In my drunken haze, he's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. He's off the stage now, and I sigh. I know that no one else is gonna be as good as him, so I gather my thoughts and stand, not even drunk enough for a real hangover yet. 

It's a shame, really, but I wouldn't be alright being with someone so shockingly similar to him. I down one last shot and slouch towards the exit. I stop to light a cigarette on the street corner, turning suddenly only to knock down Mr. Sexy Schoolgirl. 

He glares up at me through Coke-bottle lenses, some stupid hipster scarf decorating his long neck. He's got freckles up close, and these pouty lips. I extend a hand to help him up, but he doesn't take it, looking repulsed rather than thankful. He looks me up and down closely, nearly squinting in concentration as he glances at my scars. 

I remember how Eri used to look at them in awe, like I had really fought a dark wizard or some shit. Kinda made me proud, in a weird way. Schoolgirl stares up at me for several long moments. I begin to feel a bit uncomfortable, so I break the silence.

"Why don'tcha take a picture, huh? It would last longer." 

His breath hitches and he leaps to his feet, pulling me into a bruising hug. It takes me far too long to respond, so clearly I'm far more drunk than I'd thought. 

He looks scared, terrified even, as he pulls back a bit. "C-Cro?" 

I go stiff as a board, frozen in disbelief. "Eridan..." I breathe his name, running a hand through his hair. It can't be real, I'm drunk or something because this can't be my boy. 

But he looks into my eyes and I know it's him. No one I've met since has eyes like his. 

I can't help it. Before I know what's happening, my mouth's on his, crushing our faces together. It's not romantic or nice or anything I had wanted it to be, only desperate and broken. 

He pulls back all too quickly, a small sigh escaping him. "You're drunk." he mutters, grabbing my arm and dragging me behind him. 

In a stupor, I nod, content just to have his hand on my arm. 

Soon enough, after a few misunderstood directions, we arrive at my motel.  

He spends the night out of concern for my drunken state, and in the morning we swap numbers. 

And, for the first time in years, I feel fine. 

* * *

_I don't know how this is happening. He's in my arms, letting me touch him, touching me back. He isn't whining about the texture of my skin, or the temperature, or anything. He's moaning faintly, kissing me with that intensity he has whenever he's truly invested in what he's doing. He's in my lap now, and he's far too good at this for the inexperience he claims to have, but none of that really matters. What matters is Eridan and I, and that, for the first time, he's not running from affection. I pull back to breathe, staring up at him. A rot slowly settles in and takes over, and I can only watch horrified as my now corrupted Eridan wastes away before me, and it's my fault _—__

I gasp into reality, leaving the bed to take a long, cold shower. I stumble into the bathroom, pausing to glare at my reflection. I'm a wreck. Somehow, finding Eridan only made my dependence on booze that much stronger. The water stings on my wrists, where I've been nervously clawing at old scars. I don't know what I'm supposed to do here. Nothing is right. The dream was just a metaphorical way of reminding me that even if he was capable of returning my feelings, I would corrupt him. 

And where's the justice in that? When do I get someone to care about me a fraction of how much I care about them? There's nothing fair or decent about any of this scenario. I'm not in the right, and I get that. He's my younger brother. I practically raised him, what with Dad's work. It's sick. But, you know what? I never did anything to him except try to help. Yet here we are, all these years later. He's a whore, I'm a drunk, and we still aren't anything but brothers except now even that is strained and forced. 

I messed up. I walked away when he needed me, and he knows it. I can't function without him, but he no longers wants the co-dependency of our prior relationship. He wants...

I don't know how long I stand there, but I know when I get out that Eridan doesn't want me around. No one does. Dad, Kankri, Meenah, Eridan—the only four people who ever mattered in my world now hate me for their own reasons, but the reasons are all my fault. And that hurts more than anything. 

Amporas are known for their marksmanship. If we want to hit a target, we get it on the first try. We're also known for our sportsmanship. When we lose, and we know we've lost, we handle it with grace. I keep both these things in mind as I reach for my gun. 

Maybe this will make me fine. 

* * *

It's an ordinary day. There's a bunch a kids loiterin' at the park across the street. But, I'm not at the park. I'm at a funeral, an' it's my older brother's funeral. The coffin's closed. Doesn't make any difference to me, since I'm the one who found him, but I guess for Dad's sake it's alright. If Dad wasn't so fuckin' senile, maybe he'd care. He never much liked my brother, though. I hadn't seen Dad since I skipped town a couple a years ago, but nothin' changed. I try to feel sad about what's happened, about whatever part I played in it. Beyond the betrayal a him walkin' away for the last time, I can't bring myself to care. 

He'd always threatened to do it, and now he has. All I can think to say as they lower him is that I hope now, at least, he's fine. 


End file.
